voidtreckernet | Getting It Over With - Video

There's a stretch of silence, but it's not cruel or mean. Esteban's tried to show her his side of the coin, but ultimately, can he really fault her when he too would do something that stupid without a second thought, if only someone he cares about is in danger?

"Okay." He waves at her to get closer, hoping that she'll accept another hug, another hold, because he himself could use the comfort of it. He's sure Najaran could too.

In a choice between innocents lives or his friends' happiness, Esteban knows he is that selfish, that he would pick the people he cares about. But he still understands Najaran's goals, her own values and loyalty. He would never wish for innocents to die, and he would absolutely want to save them, but his loyalty is not to them. He can't fault her reasoning. That he doesn't (quite) agree with it does not mean either of them is in the wrong.

So Esteban offers her a hug and some comfort instead, smiling gently at the poor girl. She'd gone through so much, and he's sure he's not the only one giving her a hard time about it.

"I'm glad you're back here safe an' sound, Najaran." Because to him, that is the priority. But she looks like she needs someone on her side, and he can offer her this much too. "Thank you for tryin' so hard to save them. You did a lot of good."

Maybe not in a way that Esteban outright approves of. But he understands her, and he can respect her decision. He wishes she wouldn't endanger herself-- but he knows how much it hurts when the people you trust don't trust you back.

He would have to go to her to hug her, because she's staring down at the ground, shoulders shaking. "I... I can't stop trying to help people..." she whispered.

Oh-- he's probably gone too far. Esteban shuffles to get closer to the poor girl, hands wavering around her a bit before he decides that, yes, hug, and she knows she can tell him off, right? He pulls at her gently, coaxing her into his hold if she allows it, so that he can start actually be of comfort, hopefully.

He'd meant to make her see the other side of the coin, not have her wavering in her own values. He's not sure if her tiny protest is against his words, or against her own thoughts, but he's done more than too much damage already. A warm, gentle hand rubs at her arm gently, a soft up and down soothing motion as Esteban tries to gather the words up to say.

"... And that's a good thing." He assures her, tries to assure her. He's still not sure what's causing her anguish at this point, but he's listening. He's here. He's here for her.

"Wantin' to help people is a good thing; ultimately, I think we're all born with the desire to do good 'round us." Circumstances can change that. The harsh reality of the world can change that. But for Esteban, he truly believed this to be true. "An' the train specifically searched us out to go an' help, didn't it?" She's trying her best.

But Esteban is also very aware that there's a huge difference between Helping people, and Saving people. One he will die trying. The other is impossible.

"But when I do, everyone gets upset..." she said, leaning into him. "Even you." Even Duo and Leia and everyone...."

Yeah, he really should not have pressed so hard. Esteban squeezes her, and leans his chin over on top of her head, the gesture calming him as he gathers her close. It's a very warm hug that her companion offers, and since she hasn't protested yet, he wraps both his arms around her, cradling her like he might be able to protect her from the darker thoughts that hang above her shoulders.

He lingers for a moment in silence, trying to find the words to ease her pain when all she'd wanted to do was some good around her. He still cannot view her decision as entirely right, but it's not at all wrong either, and he sympathizes, really. But he's messed it up too, and he doesn't know how to fix it now. He never knows how to fix it.

"I'm only upset 'cause I care about you." He manages after a moment, trying to make sense out of all this.

He wants to help her. He doesn't want her to die again, even if the train makes death a casual thing. He hates that about the train. It's horrible. But it's also saved her, so isn't that a good thing too?

"I don't want you to die, Najaran." There's a quick quirking up of his lips, as he realizes he should start thinking up a nickname for her. Something warm and maybe a bit small. "I'm selfish like that," he grins, a little more audible in his voice, even though he keeps it gentle. Hoping to weave comfort around the young girl.

"I have fun spendin' time with you. An' I wanna go out an' fly on Thunderbeak with you-- think he'd be able to s'pport both our weights?" He hopes so. He wants to share that joy of flying with her, not just with the card.

"I want to make pizza an' share it with you," he'd promised her that too, hadn't he? "An' I wanna hear more about you. About your world. What you like, what you hate. You don't like mushrooms," he remembers that, grinning again, "but you like most other foods. D'you like fire?" He wonders, his question maybe a bit vague. "'Cause I'm a fire dancer, an' I'd like to show you that, one day." Not that he thinks the train would allow an open flame anywhere.

They're... little shards. Little hopes. Things that, he dares, might cheer her up. He hopes. He'll get back about the selfishness-selflessness talks soon, once she feels a tiny bit better. If she even wants to talk about it. But first-- first he thinks cheering her up is more important.

"I don't wanna die either. I want to have fun with my friends and eat yummy foods too. But isn't refusing to help people, leaving them behind, just so I can live... selfish?"

Kigi wouldn't abandon those she had promised to protect. Neither would her Master. She was sure of it. Her dad gave everything he had to not hurt people, to help where he could... even when they had no home.... He had always taken care of her. There were reasons that people kept helping her and her dad, weren't there?

And they circle back around.

He'd have liked to give her more time. Time to let her emotions flow, time to settle her thoughts into something more. Just... time. He's not sure if he can, or even should touch the subject at all anymore; they're very obviously not sharing the same views on it. And yet, if he drops it entirely, Esteban is worried that Najaran will never count herself as someone worth saving. He wants to help her, truly, but he's not sure he can.

There's one more squeeze from her companion, as he shifts a bit, tilting his head to the side, even if she can't really see it.

"Is selfishness a bad thing?" He asks her gently instead, wondering if Najaran has only seen it frame as evil to need to have boundaries. To need to have space for herself. To need to see herself as important enough to matter even if she doesn't make an impossible sacrifice for the good of everyone else.

"Of course it is! Isn't it...?"

Now she was confused.

Right. Right.

The half-elf doesn't comment right away, letting the silence linger between them. He's not hesitating so much as allowing time to pass, because there's so much, there's too much that he wants to address, and Najaran is in such a state that he's worried she might not think anything through. Especially not if it concerns her own well-being.

So he stays close, and rubs a hand along her arm in comfort, breathing deeply for a handful of seconds. The soft breeze that tickles through the stone garden teases through his hair, and the little tree sprites shuffle about on their oddly wooden limbs, tap-tapping across the stone floors. The gurgle of the stone fountain is its own soothing lullaby, and Esteban takes a deep, long breath as he strives to do his best. For Najaran's sake. He can't-- he can't leave her like this.

"Why is it bad?" he asks softly, his gentle hug never breaking away from the poor girl.

"Why... is it bad to think of yourself before thinking of others...?" she asked, the question made no sense because it was so obvious. "Because if everyone thought of themselves first... no one would ever help anyone else! They would just do whatever they want, and not care who they hurt or ignored!" Like Zenith when they first met. Like the Black Cepters. Like Dum Dum. she shook her head. "You have to help other people! You can't just think about yourself!" Generic you, not specifically you, Esteban.

She's... right. But also working in extremes. It's so hard for Esteban to figure out how he can explain this properly, how he can tell her what he believes in. Speaking the same words but of completely different languages. And yet he can't not try. He can't ever not try.

"Najaran? Did you know that I'm very selfish?" He's being selfish right now, trying to change her views, trying to make her understand what he speaks of. It would be easier for her to leave the domain of selflessness and selfishness alone, to never question them as good or bad and morally grey. But he can't do that. To leave her with the simplistic view of the world is to risk that she might come to harm again-- and he can't let it happen without at least trying, trying to show her what he means.

"I want my friends safe, even if that means people I don't know will die." It's a terrible thing. It's a horrible thing. But Esteban still stands by it, because that is his selfishness, his greed. There's no other creature in his world more selfish than dragons, and Esteban believes it.

He believes it.

"I want them safe, even if others get hurt for my actions. Keeping the people I love safe is my selfishness." Esteban can't save everyone. He can't save anyone. So he will strive for the ones he loves, even if an innocent pays the price. Even if it is cruel and selfish of him.

"Does that make me a bad person?" He's... not sure if he wants to hear her answer, to be honest. Maybe he is a horrible person deep down. But he would accept that judgement, because it is the truth.

She listened, shaking. And shook her head no at his final question. But rather than defending her own point of veiw directly she did her best to put her shoulders straight and look him in the eyes.

"I don't want my friends to die either," she said, her voice trembling. "But if I had found a way to.. to save Kigi," she swallowed hard, "from the burden that...that killed her..." another hard swallow. She was doing her best. "If I had found some way to let the Dark Lord free sooner, so she would have survived... a lot of people would have died. Even more would have been badly hurt. Everything good anyone had ever done to try and save Rakkan would have been undone. And Kigi..."

Another hard swallow.

"Kigi never would have forgiven me. Or herself. Everyone Kigi ever loved gave themselves to the seal that kept the Dark Lord trapped until the Mistrals could come. If I had forced her not to help... she would have been betraying everyone she ever loved, every ideal she lived with. Kigi might have survived but..." she fumbled, unable to figure out how to express the end of the thought.

"But she wouldn't have been Kigi anymore," Goligan finished for her.

Najaran nodded, tears in her eyes.

"I... I don't want to die," Najaran said in a small trembling voice. "I don't like being hurt. I'm scared... a lot.... since coming here. Since leaving Gilman Isle." Another hard swallow. "But the first time we faced the World Eaters..." she felt like she was going to shake apart. "The Train... The Train forced us to evacuate. No warning, no time, no choice. The Train chose to save us rather than to let us try to save them. Everyone keeps telling me that it was because the Train couldn't bear to lose us that way..."

She started pacing now, hugging her arms to try and control the shaking as tears fell.

"I do not think the Train is bad... but..." she swallowed hard and looked him in the eyes again. "I have never forgiven the Train for that," she whispered. "And I've never forgiven myself. I..." she didn't even feel like herself anymore since then. Somedays she felt like someone hollowed her out like a melon for carving. She turned on her heel and ran. She couldn't be there any more couldn't be still anymore... but...

There was nowhere to run to.

There's too much. There's too much all at once and Esteban can't keep up with everything she's telling him. Kigi died-- he'd gathered that much-- from... from a duty? That kept a Dark Lord imprisoned? He's getting confused and Najaran is talking, and hurting, and he didn't mean to make it so much worse-- he'd just-- it was just.

He's selfish. He doesn't want Najaran to die, doesn't want her to hurt. But she is hurting now and it's his fault, him and his big mouth and his clumsy words and his stubbornness that he shouldn't have shoved in this mess and--

"WAIT!" His hand stretches out; snatches at Najaran's wrist before he can think it clearly, hoping to catch her for just a moment. 'Dians, he's... he's not sorry for his words, he's not sorry for his beliefs, but he is sorry that he's made it so much more worse for her. He shouldn't have pushed. He shouldn't have hurt her. Just... he can't leave it like this. He can't let her leave like this right now. He needs-- he needs to make sure they can save their friendship.

"Please," he adds, because he won't force her either.

Holding her wrist he would feel how badly she is shanking. So when she collapses to the ground it probably isn't a surprise. Goligan managed to stand on his own when she collapsed, and her now free hand went over her face as she sobbed.

Her collapse surprises him, and Esteban panics a bit, immediately letting go of her wrist, worried that he might have hurt her. Well-- he already has it's just-- it's just.

"I'm sorry." 'Dians, he's horrible at this, and he feels horrible, and this all was stupid, he just had to open his big mouth. Why does he always make things worse like this?

No. No they can still fix it. They can, it's just. He just needs to shut up. Offer her comfort, stop talking, except, maybe, to apologize. Find the right words to apologize and back off. He's done enough harm.

"... I can give you a hug, if you'd like?" It's the second time Esteban offers, but this time, it feels more fragile, more broken. He's butchering their friendship one second and asking for a hug the next, but he does hope that the contact might make her feel better. "Or I can just-- sit next to you?" That might work better. Tiny steps. Tiny steps, he has got to stop pushing for too much.

She was crying too hard to answer, so Goligan answered for her.

"I am certain either of those would be fine with her," he said, concern in his voice and his eyes.

The half-elf nods slowly at the staff's offer, but it wasn't Najaran who answered, so he's far more hesitant at first. He sits, delicately, next to her, shifting his weight in a slow, gentle movement, until he's settled by her side, still wary of doing something wrong. The pull at her shoulder is soft at first, a careful hand to guide her to snuggle against him, where she may cry all the tears that he's burdened her with.

His touch is always gradual, a gentle tiny contact at first, gradually, slowly growing stronger. Softly, he rubs circles across her shoulders, and, after a hushed, quiet moment, he shifts, both because he cannot sit still for more than a minute, and because he hopes Najaran might glean some comfort, some grounding from the tiny side-to-side swaying.

Without filly being aware of how it happened, it was so gradual, Najaran was soon sobbing into him, still shaking terribly.

He lets her. All the aches, all the pain that have assaulted her, he lets her spill them against his shirt, rubbing at her shoulders. She's still so young; old enough that Esteban doesn't feel like he needs to hover over her as he tends to with Romeo, but still so small, for how much she'd said. A Dark Lord, and Kigi and her mentor dying, so many people-- and he somewhat got the distinct impression that they were relying on her.

Maybe it's the way she lay so little importance to her own life. That in a bid for good, her survival doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. There's mentions of books and cards, of things that belonged to her and didn't belong to her. The sword that spoke of another card caller, the mention of dragons that gave their lives and Najaran who saw through their eyes. He's not sure how much of it is correct, how much he understands what she is saying. But he doesn't need to understand. He won't force her to relive this again.

So he holds her gently, and carefully sways. Lets her empty out the heart that has seen so much death for how young she is, without care for how time stretches between them, so long as Najaran takes some comfort from this. There is a lot that seems to be broken in her world, and Esteban can't help the desire to fix things, the wish that he could do something... but there is little else he can do, but sit here, and cling to the young girl, and hope that it's enough.

Hope that maybe, maybe some day soon, he can share a bit of sunshine back with her, instead of the dark clouds that he's troubled her with.

After a while spent sobbing into him, accepting the warmth and friendship she finally cried herself out. At least for now. Her eyes remained closed but they were no longer spilling tears as her breathing slowly and subtly evened out. She hadn't quite cried herself to sleep, but she was very nearly there.

She hadn't cried herself to sleep since the train evacuated them from the World Eaters the first time. Since she and Duo had collapses in a hall and clung to each other, crying until they both fell asleep on the floor.

If nothing else... she was so lucky in the wonderful friends she got to keep making over her life. Even if she never got to keep most of them with her...

There are agonies that don't ever really fade. The half-elf with her knows this. But there is relief, from time to time. An outlet for all these fears and frustrations and pain. He hopes, truly hopes that, for all the pain he's given her, Najaran has found a bit of comfort from him, from this, from crying, until her tears ran dry.

He lets her sobs taper down, lets her breathing smooth over the hitch in her lungs, still here, still holding her. If nothing else, he can help her weather the storm that seems to have caught up with her.

A soothing silence comes to cloak them in its embrace, wrapping them in the warmth Esteban can share. A warmth of fire, and a gentle pat between her shoulders, and, letting her rest, seeing her settle and quieten, Esteban draws his hoodie off his shoulders, gently wrapping it around his friend, so she won't grow cold.

His voice rises in a murmur, even and steady, but discreet, like the patter of a gentle rain against a window. The hand returns to settle against her back, and Esteban tries to give her something to anchor her here. Or maybe something to help her slip into dreams, hopefully bright ones.

"I-- don't really know what to say; to make you feel better. I'm not great at talkin' people out of their pain-- I never know how." He repeats. Whether Najaran hears him or not, he can't quite tell, but he can try. He can try. "But I can always try an' distract them. So. You can list'n to me, or not list'n to me, it's okay. I'm just-- I'm here." It's all he can do.

"I'm here." There's a handful of heartbeats again, where the half-elf remains quiet, letting her protest or rise or, or something. Or anything. But if she won't, well. He can offer her this. He's gathered stories from all over his world after all; it's easy for him to settle onto one to share.

She had stirred a little when he shifted the hoodie off and put it around her. She sniffled, confused as to what he was doing, but she let him. She was so tired. Sleep was pulling at her, and the part of her that was fighting it was all but lost on the part of her that was asking why. When he resettled, she found herself snuggling in.

"Thank you..." she mumbled, voice a little slurred with the sleep that was dragging on her.

She felt safe. And that made it hard to think of any reason to not sleep. There was something oddly familiar about this whole thing and her drifting mind came across two... they were as much sensation as memory...

Being curled like this against Duo when they had both been so upset and...

Her dad. Being curled like this with her dad.

Not just one time, but many. Sometimes when she was upset, or he was, or just because it was cold.

Her lips slid slowly upwards as she drifted closer and closer to sleep. And there in the Garden car with Esteban, it was almost like being back with her dad, knowing that no matter what happened, he'd keep her safe. They'd be okay...

They'd be okay....

Somehow.

There are stories that are woven about her as she sleeps, tales of moons and dragons and birds stealing shards of the sky and breaking them into its feathers. Tall tales of mountains and small tales of crickets and everything in-between, clever foxes that learned to walk upright and gentle frogs that weave baskets out of grass. He keeps a steady stream of them going, until her breathing evens out entirely, and her limbs grow lax.

Tomorrow-- tomorrow he can apologize for being so callous. So driven. But today-- Today they can rest. Recover. Ease their burdens aside and linger in the gentle promise that, no matter how broken and hurt they are; neither of them seem about to give up on the other. They can still fix it. Esteban knows they can.

She drifted and dreamed, held and safe. Comforted. Perhaps some of the oddest dreams she had ever had, as the various stories wove themselves around each other. And because she was Najaran she wondered about what kinds of foods could be found on the moons, and what did the dragons eat? Did they eat the thief birds? How did they taste? Of the kinds of food that could be found in mountains, of a cricket leading her to a feast. Foxes walking upright to order food at restaurants and gentle frogs showing her what river plants tasted the yummiest. The last dream she would remember before stirring probably involved her eating salad out of an edible grass bowl....

Her slow waking doesn't disturb Esteban, his arms cradling her close while she sleeps. He's recalling a tale of an imprisoned god, watching the world from atop his tower, and stealing beauty from those surrounding him. However long she seems to have slept, it looks like the half-elf kept a steady stream of words, babbling gently in his unusually soft, quiet voice.

Once the tale is over, he grows silent, taking a deep breath and wetting his lips, as they've grown quite dry over his constant speaking. He tries his best to stretch without bothering the young girl pressed into his side, feeling a few of his bones click back into place with a soft groan. He peers at the staff from his awkward sitting, warm hand holding her shoulder steady as he asks.

"Maybe we sh'ld get her in bed?" he suggest gently. "Don't-- really wanna leave her 'lone for when she wakes up, but she can't be comf'table like this." He's feeling the effects of stone himself, desperately needing a bit of movement, but not daring to until he knows how to handle the sleeping girl against his side.

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Ayaaaa, I focused too much on event for a few days, sorry for the delay .__.